


Zevran/Warden Week 2016 Prompts

by minwrathous



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: M/M, Tumblr Prompt, Zevran/Warden Week 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:22:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7668229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minwrathous/pseuds/minwrathous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of the prompts I've worked on for <a href="http://zevranology.tumblr.com/post/147879108754/zevranwarden-week-what-is-that-exactly-what-it">Zevran/Warden Week 2016</a> on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One: Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __**Day One: “The Grey Warden dies here!”**  
>  Zevran certainly does make a… unique first impression. What were your Warden’s thoughts towards him, at first? Did they actually trust him, or was recruiting him a purely pragmatic decision? What were those first weeks like?

Surana sat close to the fire and picked at his stew. The fire crackled and popped, and he could hear Leliana off somewhere doing her best to speak with Morrigan. Surana frowned and prodded at a piece of meat with his finger. Well, at least he thought it was meat; he couldn’t be sure exactly what was in the stew these days.

Normally he wouldn’t be so engrossed with studying his food, but the night’s dinner was a bit more tense than he was used to. Alistair sat off to the side, sullenly studying his own stew. The man’s usual chattiness was muffled by his foul mood. Instead, he would only look up from his stew to throw the occasional angry look to the other side of camp.

The subject of Alistair’s ire sat against a nearby tree, just outside of the fire’s warm glow.

Zevran - the Antivan.

The assassin had joined the party only two days earlier, and Alistair still hadn’t forgiven Surana for it.

_“I can’t believe you’re trusting him,” Alistair had said after the attempt on their lives. “Why? He tried to kill us! And now you’ve invited him along! What’s to stop him from trying again?”_

_Surana had looked back at Alistair. He’d been unable to put his jumbled thoughts into words. Instead, he’d shrugged and replied, “It’s just a feeling. I don’t think he’ll try again.”_

_“A feeling? Well, I hope your feeling doesn’t earn you a knife in the back,” Alistair had huffed, then stomped ahead. Surana had been left feeling prickly and on edge._

And now here they were - quiet and still divided on the matter.

Surana looked toward the assassin, his frown deepening. Why _had_ he decided to let the other elf stay with them? It made no sense. By all rights, they should have slain Zevran where he lay on the ground. The man had tried to kill them!

But it had felt wrong to consider killing him after he’d so readily surrendered. In fact, the entire situation had felt wrong to Surana from the very beginning - the botched set-up, the declaration of intent that was far too showy. And then the battle had been so easily won... Nothing about it seemed _right_.

Surana hadn’t been able to figure out _why_ it felt so strange though, and it had bothered him. Logically, he should have just killed the assassin and moved the group along. But there had been something else happening beneath the bad assassination attempt, some murky thing Surana’s mind could barely circle the edges of. He’d been loath to just let it go.

On top of that, the assassin in question had been helpless and also quite persuasive with his argument.

 And so Surana, who had always considered himself a steadfast proponent of pragmatism and logical decision-making, had gone with his feelings.

 Instead of a blade to the throat, Surana had offered the assassin his hand.

 Surana sighed and set his stew aside. He was tired of dwelling on it, and the conversation around the fire was quite lacking. He pulled himself up off of the ground, smoothed down his robes, and made his way over to the tree. Alistair watched him go and grunted something in annoyance. Surana ignored him.

 “Good evening, Warden,” Zevran said as Surana approached him. He looked up and flashed a warm smile. The cuts on his face from the battle had mostly healed.

 “Hello,” Surana said. He hovered over top of Zevran, standing and shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I…” Now that he was standing here, he was at a loss for what to say. Why had he left the fireside again?

 “Come to make sure I am not plotting anything?” Zevran asked, smile widening. He patted the ground next to him. “Please, feel free to observe your prisoner a little more closely. I promise I have not laid any traps.”

 Surana regarded the assassin warily, then reluctantly sank down beside him. He made sure to leave space between the two of them.

“You’re not our prisoner,” Surana insisted, tracing his fingers along the fabric of his own robes. “So, no. I...I just wanted to see how you are feeling.” He looked to Zevran, eyes roaming over the other elf in search of his injuries.

 Zevran had required healing after their confrontation. He’d been dealt a serious wound to his leg by Sten, and the bandages were still peeking out from beneath his leather armor. Surana’s eyes lingered on the leg. It really was a rather nicely muscled leg. He’d gotten to touch it the day before when he’d been healing and then dressing the wound.

 “How kind of you,” Zevran hummed. “I am feeling...alive. It is still quite a nice way to feel, all things considered.” He tilted his head as he looked back at Surana, then smirked when he noticed where the other elf was staring.

 “Alive is a good start,” Surana said. He looked up and realized he’d been caught looking. Unperturbed, he returned Zevran’s smile with a small one of his own.

 Alistair and the rest of the party would come around to Surana’s decision eventually, or at least Surana hoped so. Until then, he could deal with their doubt and his own second-guessing. Right now, he suddenly felt glad that he’d taken a chance on trusting Zevran.

 Zevran laughed and Surana unconsciously leaned closer.

Maybe sometimes logic was overrated.


	2. Day Two: AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __**Day Two: “Arr, pirate Zevran reporting for duty!”**  
>  AU day! I would personally be eternally grateful to the person who actually brings us a pirate Zevran AU, but any AU goes!

“That settles it then. Tomorrow, we will launch our assault on the Breach,” Cullen says, crossing his arms over his chest. The low lighting of their makeshift Chantry war room casts shadows over the map in front of them.

Cassandra grunts in agreement and looks to Leliana.

“My scouts have been dispatched,” Leliana says. “They will make sure that the path is still clear and safe. The bulk of our troops and the mages should have no trouble with the march.”

“Yes, yes,” Zevran says, holding back a yawn. “We all scurry up the hill. The mages chant, I wave my hand around, and then we all close the hole in the sky. Understood. Is that all?”

“Well, there is the matter of the Nobles,” Josephine adds. The candle on her board flickers, her hand still busy writing even as she speaks. “I have--”

“Oh! And then we celebrate afterward,” Zevran interjects. “I nearly forgot the most important part - the one that involves wine and good company.” He smiles at Josephine and waggles his eyebrows. It’s almost enough to distract from how bone-tired he feels.

It isn’t easy being the Herald of Andraste.

“Yes, I believe some celebration is in order,” Josephine replies. She humors him with a smile, though her shrewd eyes have already taken in how worn down Zevran looks.

“Though...I believe that is enough for now. We have been going for hours now, and you could use some rest before tomorrow.” She is still looking at Zevran.

“My dear Ambassador, don’t stop on my account. I happen to have excellent stamina. The hours mean nothing.” Zevran grins at her. He doesn’t want admit to them exactly _how_ exhausted he feels.

Cassandra grunts, this time in disapproval, while Cullen clears his throat.

“Lady Montilyet is right. You need rest, Herald,” he says. He uncrosses his arms and reaches down to move one of the map markers forward.

Zevran watches as the Inquisition’s symbol is placed on the mountain above their current location. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be a very important day for this fledgling Inquisition. He should probably listen and call it a night.

“Well then,” Zevran said, flexing his gloved hands. He looks around at his advisors and tries not to dwell on how strange it still is to think of these people as such. “I will take my leave and see you all in the morning.”

They say their goodbyes. Their overly long meeting is complete, and now Zevran is free to get some much-needed sleep. He’ll try, anyway. It’s hard when all he can think about is next day and the hard work ahead. After tomorrow, perhaps some of the weight on his shoulders will lesson. Perhaps the nervous twist in his gut will unwind a bit. It will do nothing for the ache of loneliness deep in his chest, but that is no fault of the Breach.

“Zev,” Leliana says. Zevran pauses in the doorway and turns back to look at his friend. She’s smiling at him. “Do remember that you need your rest tonight, hm?” He tilts his head, confused. How many times were they going to tell him that he needed rest? How bad did he look?

“Thank you, my dear,” he replies with a chuckle. “My bed happens to be empty tonight, so I will not be distracted from my mission.”

Leliana simply smiles back. There’s a glint in her eye and suddenly her smile is more of a smirk. There is something more she isn’t saying. Zevran is too tired to dwell on it and instead takes his leave.

He hurries through the Chantry and out into the cool night air. While their meeting had gone on for hours, they’d started early enough that it is still evening. Zevran melts into the shadows. He glides through Haven, doing his best to remain as unassuming as possible. He appreciates the people who have joined the cause, but right now he doesn’t want to deal with any of them. Now that he is alone, his face is pinched into a grimace.

These past few weeks have been difficult.

Zevran’s still not quite used to having so many people relying on him. For the past few years, he’d been the one in the shadows. He'd been used to being just off to the side of the important man in the room. He hadn’t minded at all; it had helped that he was pretty fond of the important man in question.

That man - his Warden - is the reason Zevran had been at the Temple of Sacred Ashes in the first place. They had needed information, and they had also wanted to keep an eye on the conflict. So Zevran, being the loyal and capable person that he is, had parted ways with Surana and infiltrated the Conclave. The plan had been to gather intel, then meet up later to continue on together into the west.

But everything had changed with the destruction of the Temple. Nothing had gone as planned. He’d been unable to get in touch with Surana, and the date of their meeting had slipped by.

And now here he is, stuck with some magical marking on his hand and a bunch of people looking to him for salvation. Zevran - the Antivan whoreson and former Crow - had become the figurehead for some religious order right out of the history books he’d never bothered to read.

The Maker definitely has a sense of humor.

Zevran reaches the small cottage he’s been residing in. He emerges from the shadows and sags in relief as he opens the door. He’s been doing his best to remain affable around all the others, but it is starting to wear on him. It’s nice to be away from their prying eyes. He quickly steps inside, eager to undress and get into bed. If he falls asleep quickly, he won’t have to think about any of his responsibilities for a few precious hours.

As he closes the door behind him, he feels the hair on the back of his neck tingle. It is while he’s locking it that he realizes why - he’s not alone in the room. Stupid mistake! Cursing himself, he spins around and draws ones of his knives. A spike of energy surges through him. He may have been too tired to keep his guard up before, but he’s alert now. He’s ready to face whoever has been stupid enough to sneak into his home.

There’s a man sitting in a chair by a fire that he must have started - another thing Zevran stupidly hadn’t noticed. The man is dressed in the dusty leathers of a traveler. He stands up as Zevran takes a step forward. The motion causes the light of the fire to glint off of the earring the man proudly wears. Zevran’s eyes widen and he can hear the thrumming of his own heartbeat.

“Nymm,” Zevran says, his voice suddenly hoarse. The relief he feels is palpable. He lets the knife clatter to the floor and rushes forward.

They meet halfway and embrace. It isn’t until he feels his husband’s arms around him that Zevran realizes he is shaking. It doesn’t matter though. Right now, nothing else matters but the man who is holding him.

They kiss, their lips coming together with a force that almost rattles Zevran’s teeth. His hands clutch at the leather of Surana’s tunic. Surana’s arms are around his neck and he’s pressing as close to Zevran as he can. They hold onto one another, exchanging kisses until both of them are nearly breathless. Zevran is the one that pulls away from Surana’s lips, but it’s only so he can kiss his way down the side of Surana’s face and along his neck.

“Zev,” Surana says. He kisses the top of Zevran’s head and then laughs as Zevran nuzzles at his neck. “I came as soon as I heard what happened.” He loosens his hold on Zevran and moves a hand up to he can run it through Zevran’s hair. “Are you all right?”

Zevran kisses that familiar neck once more before pulling back to look at Surana. The other elf looks about as tired as Zevran feels, but he is smiling. Zevran smiles back and nods.

“Yes, mi amor. I am now.”


	3. Day Three: First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Day Three: “Again? What must the others think?”**  
>  In the tent! (Or bedroom, or random closet, or… just about anywhere, really). Who invited who the first time? What sort of shenanigans do they get up to behind closed… er, canvas? Obviously this theme lends itself towards NSFW contributions, but that is by no means required!

Zevran had been flirting with Warden Surana for a while now. He’d started almost as soon as he’d been allowed to join the group, and had been pleased to find that the other elf was receptive to it.

Early in his time with the group, sex had been just something that he planned on using as leverage for his own well-being After all, they were less likely to turn on Zevran if the group’s leader wanted to fuck him. So he’d used his ingratiating words and sultry smiles as a defensive measure. Eventually, it became apparent to Zevran that it wasn’t necessary; Surana was keeping his word.

It turned out that the more Zevran spoke with Surana, the more Zevran was finding he actually  _ liked _ the Warden. He soon got to thinking that perhaps sex wasn’t a tool to be used - not with Surana, anyway. No. Now, he just thought it would be fun to fool around naked with the Warden. 

And so one night, Zevran decided it was time to try. He’d lead with the offer of a private massage. Much to his pleasure, Surana agreed.

“A willing victim it is. And if I might ask, if the opportunity to proceed past the massage should present itself…?” Zevran let the question hang in the air and tried not to look too eager.

“I’m sure I’ll think of something,” Surana replied, a wry half-smile lingering on his lips.

“Then why are we still talking?” Zevran asked. His eyes roamed over the other elf approvingly. He had a deep curiosity to know what the Warden looked like under those robes.

Surana hesitated before eventually answering with a nod, then gestured toward his tent. He turned and left the light of the campfire with Zevran quickly following after him. Sten watched them both go, his dark eyes glittering but betraying no emotion. Zevran grinned cheekily at him as he passed by, but Sten didn’t bother reacting.

“Shall we begin with the massage I mentioned?” Zevran asked as he pulled back the flap of the Warden’s small tent. He ducked inside without waiting for an answer. “I was not exaggerating when I said that I am a master.”

Surana was sitting down on his bedroll and looking at Zevran expectantly.

“I don’t know that the massage will even be necessary,” he said, his voice as even and as cool as always.

“Oh, I believe that there is never a time when they are  _ not _ necessary,” Zevran replied. He stepped completely into the tent and knelt down beside Surana. A single flickering lantern held on a hook provided the dim light that filled the tent. “I did enter your tent on the promise of giving one, but I will err in favor of your judgement.”

“How noble of you,” Surana replied. He tilted his head up to look at the assassin. Zevran, not one to waste an opportunity, leaned in and pressed his mouth to the Warden’s. Surana returned the kiss and parted his lips so Zevran’s tongue could slip in between.

Zevran reflected on the softness of the other elf’s skin as he ghosted a hand over Surana’s cheek. Why had he waited so long to try kissing the man? The softness was quickly forgotten when Surana withdrew his tongue and nipped at Zevran’s lower lip. Zevran smiled and pushed in closer.

They continued to kiss. Zevran could feel it growing deeper. More urgent. The light armor Zevran was wearing was beginning to feel too restrictive. It was time to get rid of both it and the robes that Surana was wearing. Zevran pulled away for a moment and smiled at the soft noise of protest that came from Surana.

“Are you sure I can’t offer you that massage?” Zevran teased.

“I don’t think either of us have the patience for that now,” Surana replied. His normally pale face was flushed.

“You’d be surprised by how much patience I have.” Zevran flashed him a smile.

“You’re also a good liar,” Surana retorted. “We both know what you’d like to do.” He returned Zevran’s smile, but then surprised Zevran by pulling away from him.

Surana scooted farther back on the bedroll and flipped himself over so he was on his knees. He fumbled with his belt for a moment before managing to undo it and toss it aside. Zevran watched him curiously. This was an interesting development.

He continued to watch as Surana bent over on the bedroll and hitched his robe up over his hips. His pale skin was to glow in the dull lamplight. Zevran’s eyes widened. His gaze trailed up Surana’s leg, taking in the flex of his thigh muscles. Surana was not wearing smallclothes at all, Zevran noted. He also took note of the round curve of the Warden’s ass.

Zevran could feel himself growing hard beneath the leather of his armor.

Surana spread his legs a little wider, presenting himself, and Zevran made a choked noise. His arousal was at war with his sudden disbelief. It wasn’t every day that somebody caught him so off guard.

“Well?” Surana said. He looked back over his shoulder at Zevran.

“I...you must forgive me. I was quite taken with the lovely view,” Zevran replied, pulling his eyes away from Surana’s ass. Well, it was abundantly clear that the Warden wasn’t as shy as Zevran had at first assumed. The assassin was impressed, though something about it bothered him.

Zevran reached forward and gently touched Surana’s thigh. He could feel the other shiver slightly under his hand.

Surana shifted again, leaning toward Zevran. He’d turned his head back and was looking down at the bedroll. Zevran frowned and ran his hand up Surana’s leg. His skin was soft and smooth and tempting something deep within Zevran. Still, he hesitated. Neither of them had even gotten naked yet.

“What are you waiting for?” Surana asked. “This is what you wanted to do, isn’t it?”

Zevran continued to frown..

“I assumed you brought your own oil,” Surana continued. “If not, I may have something that will work. Or…” He sat up on his knees and began to turn himself around, robe falling back in place. “Did you just want me to suck you off?” He looked at Zevran, who was still uncharacteristically silent.

“What’s wrong?” Surana asked. There was a hint of confusion in his voice - something Zevran wasn’t used to hearing from the Warden.

“There is nothing wrong,” Zevran finally replied. “I just can’t help but wonder why you are in such a hurry, my friend.” 

“Oh,” Surana said, and blinked. “I…I suppose I’m used to getting on with it.”

“Getting on with it?” Zevran asked, eyebrow raised. “That makes it sound like a task. Something tedious or unwanted.” 

“Unwanted? What? No, I want to.” Surana shook his head. “It’s just…” He sighed and looked down at his knees again. “I’m just not used to this. Being alone like this.” He clutched at the fabric of his own robes.

“There isn’t much  _ time _ for things in the Circle,” he said. “Everything has to be discreet. Hidden or quick, so you don’t get caught by the Templars. Not all of them will turn a blind eye to fraternizing. So... it’s always a quick fumble here. A hurried stint on your knees there.” He looked up at Zevran imploringly. 

Ah. Zevran thought he had a better handle on it now. The lamp flickered and shadows played across the canvas of the tent.

“So, what you are saying is that you haven’t yet had the chance to make love,” Zevran supplied.

“No,” Surana said, and looked up at him. “I’ve had sex before. I’m not inexperienced.” He sounded almost petulant, which greatly amused Zevran.

“I do not doubt that you’ve had sex, my dear Warden,” Zevran chuckled. That had been made clear by Surana’s earlier display. “I trust that you’ve been fucked in some dark corner of an old tower.” He reached forward and trailed a finger across Surana’s cheek.

“What I am saying is that you have not experienced how  _ good _ it can be.” Zevran looked at him, watching Surana’s face as the Warden considered it. He moved his hand back, tracing the over the shape of his ear; it drew a shiver out of the other elf. “How good  _ I _ can be.”

“Show me, then,” was Surana’s shaky response.

“It would be an honor,” Zevran replied, then leaned in to capture him in another kiss.


	4. Day Four: Crows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Day Four: “I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That’s how it works. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will.”**  
>  How do your Warden and Zevran handle the looming threat of the Crows? Do the Crows come after them again after the encounter with Taliesen? Do the Crows ever target your Warden to get to Zevran?

_The first time was just before the Warden ended the Blight._

Zevran had noticed the young woman  across the crowded pub almost immediately; she was trying to discreetly watch Zevran’s group and failing miserably. It took Zevran only a moment to decide what needed to happen. He leaned in to where Surana was sitting close beside him, then kissed the Warden’s cheek and took his leave from the table.

As he made his way outside the pub to relieve himself, he could tell that the woman was following him.

Sloppy. Far too sloppy.

He came to a stop in the alleyway behind the pub and pretended to have trouble undoing his leathers. He was ready for her when she tried to flank him. He pulled a knife from his hip and planted it in her throat in one fluid motion. There was nobody else in the alley to hear her surprised gurgle or see as her body fell to the ground.

Zevran bent down to examine her and wasn’t surprised to find that she’d only earned a handful of markings on her skin. A Crow, but a novice. She was much younger than Zevran had initially thought. There was no way anyone had expected her to win this fight. No. She’d been sent as a message.

He frowned as he remembered the talk he’d had with Surana after Taliesen’s death. He’d been wrong. The Crows weren’t going to be forgetting about him any time soon.

He finished his search of the girl’s corpse and pocketed what coin she had. Zevran then left her in the alley and rejoined his companions. As he cozied up against Surana again, he tried to bury his worry. It was a little easier with the Warden next to him.

He didn’t tell Surana about the girl in the alley.

_\--------------------_

_The second time was not long after the end of the Blight._

The whole city of Denerim was celebrating the official coronation of their new King. Surana was expected to attend all of the parties, and of course Zevran was all too happy to accompany him. The two had separated for a bit while Surana went off to give his moral support to a very frazzled King Alistair.

Zevran busied himself watching the crowd. He kept the fringes of the large hall, occasionally looking over to keep an eye on his lover. He smiled whenever he caught himself thinking that word.

He was smiling to himself when a pair of strong hands pulled him into the dark alcove in front of which he’d lingered. Immediately, he squirmed in their grasp and tried to lash out. He felt a blade graze his arm as he tried to twist himself around. He managed to free one of his hands and pull a knife of his own.

Zevran and his unknown assailant fought silently in the shadows while the clueless nobility of Ferelden socialized a stone’s throw away. Most of the nobles knew what usually went on in darkened alcoves at these types of events. If anybody heard a faint gasp or grunt, it was easily ignored.

After a few moments, Zevran emerged from the alcove. Alone. He brushed himself off and straightened his hair. There wasn’t much he could do for the slightly torn and bloodied sleeve, but he would try his best to hide it. His knife was left behind, stuck fast in the eye socket of his assailant. Perhaps he would inform the guards later, so they could dispose of the corpse.

If Surana noticed the sleeve and wound later that night, he chose not to comment on. Zevran also made a choice; he stayed silent on the matter.

_\--------------------_

_The next time was by the docks._

Afterward, Zevran watched as the man’s corpse sank below the water. Later that night, he bit his tongue when Surana asked him how his day had gone.

_\--------------------_

_The time after, it was in an alley._

He killed two men, but was wounded. When he returned to Surana that night, he lied. He couldn’t look his lover in the eyes as the other elf healed him.

_\--------------------_

_The last time was in the marketplace._

Zevran and Surana were out together for the day, enjoying the day and spending as money as they could. Surana had finally  begun to settle into his role as one of King Alistair’s advisors, and Zevran was trying hard to enjoy his time being a ‘kept man’.

As Surana leaned over to peer at a  pile of brightly colored fruit, Zevran felt it. Something stirred in the air and Zevran’s reaction was immediate. He darted in and tackled Surana, dragging him down to the ground. Surana grunted in surprise as a piece of fruit on the table plopped wetly. Zevran looked up.

An arrow, dark and fletched with black feathers stuck out of the oozing piece of fruit.

Zevran took the sight in and noted that it was at height with where his lover’s neck had just been. He turned and scanned the marketplace, eyes moving upward to the rooftops. By then, the crowd closest to the stall had begun to take notice of the arrow and panic. Surana was stirring beneath him.

Another arrow was loosed and shot toward the stall. There was a _thwap_ as it struck an invisible barrier a foot above Zevran’s head. One of Surana’s hands was tightly gripping the front of Zevran’s light armor while the other was held up mid-cast. Zevran could feel the magic working around them, and for a moment felt a brief flicker of comfort. It quickly evaporated when he realized that the cat was out of the bag now.

Zevran looked down at Surana and the other elf’s eye met his own. They were going to have some _words_ later. But for now, they had another assassin to hunt.

_\--------------------_

“You should have told me,” Surana said. It was later that night in their personal quarters, and the mage was standing by the fireplace. They had been able to track down their attacker in the end. The man had tried to fire upon them during the hunt, and Zevran had been able to track the shot.  A well-placed bolt of energy from Surana had subdued him, and now the man was awaiting questioning somewhere in one of the dungeons.

A job well done.

Surana crossed his arms over his bare chest and looked to Zevran, who was sprawled across their bed. Well, perhaps things weren’t going _that_ well.

“I did not want you to worry that pretty head of yours, amor,” Zevran replied.

“This pretty head was nearly shot off today,” Surana replied sourly. Zevran was unable to hold back his wince. Surana’s expression softened and he moved over to the bed. “...how long, Zev?” he asked, taking a seat on the edge. He kept his back to Zevran.

“Before the Archdemon,” Zevran admitted. “Not long after Taliesen.”

“How many?”

Zevran stared up at the ceiling. The silence hung between the two of them as he thought of how best to explain it. There was no dancing around the issue now. No more lies. It was time for the truth.

Zevran took a breath, then began to speak.

The pub. The party. The docks. The alley. The market.

He recounted all of the failed attempts that had occurred over the past few months. Surana listened silently, back still toward Zevran. The assassin’s eyes stayed locked on the ceiling above the bed.

Finally, Zevran was finished. He was hesitant to look to Surana, too afraid that the Warden would be looking at him now. What would his expression be? The Warden’s silence didn’t help the churning feeling in Zevran’s gut.

“Why did you lie to me?” Surana’s response was soft. He couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice. “You said that the Crows would think you dead; that you would be safe.” Zevran closed his eyes and thought back. He’d sounded so confident back then, hadn’t he?

“It was not a lie at first,” Zevran replied. He opened his eyes and looked up to find Surana hadn’t moved at all. Zevran sat up suddenly, then crawled across the bed toward Surana. “I hoped that I was right, but when the first attempt was made…” He moved in and hesitantly wrapped his arms around Surana from behind.

“I am sorry. I did not wish to burden you with anymore of it. After all you’d done for me, I thought I should be the one to handle it.” Zevran pulled him close and breathed in the smell of his hair. “Plus, you were busy enough - you had a Blight to stop and a country to save.”

“You still could have said something,” Surana replied. He leaned back against Zevran, who noticed the slight sulk in the Warden’s voice. “But...I think I understand. I do not like it, but I get it. Though, it ends now. No more thwarting assassination attempts without me, Zev.” He jerked his head forward, then let it smack back against Zevran’s chest for emphasis.

“Apologies,” Zevran said, chuckling. “I will do my best to keep you informed, my dear Warden. Perhaps tomorrow you would like to accompany me in questioning our friend from the market?”

“That’s a start,” Surana said.

“A start?” Zevran asked.

“Yes. A start to making things up to me,” Surana replied. “I won’t be won over again that easily.”

“Oh, is that so?” Zevran tightened his grip on Surana and pulled him back onto the bed. The Warden let out a surprised huff but let himself be manhandled. “Well, we shall see what I can do about this situation, no?” Zevran let go of Surana once the other elf was fully prone on the bed. He then quickly rearranged himself so he was straddling him.

“I’m not going to make it easy,” Surana said from his position under Zevran. He was trying to remain composed, but Zevran could tell he was holding back a smirk.

“Good,” Zevran said. He leaned in and rolled his hips against Surana’s. “I like it when things are hard.”

Surana broke then. He let out a bark of laughter and reached up to push against Zevran’s chest. Zevran responded by grabbing his hands and twining their fingers together. Surana looked up at him, eyes bright with laughter. Zevran looked back down at him and held onto his hands.

Something was going to have to be done about the Crows; waiting for each new attempt was no way to live his life. In truth, Zevran couldn’t say what was going to happen in the future. How he was going to solve the problem of the Crows was still unknown to him.

Zevran released Surana, then buried his hands in the mage’s hair. He leaned in for a kiss while Surana stretched up to meet him.

But what he did know was that he didn’t have to do it alone.

Not anymore.


	5. Day Five: Token

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Day Five: “It’s meant a lot to me, but so have… so has what you’ve done.”**  
>  Today’s theme is Zevran’s earring. How did your Warden react? How did it affect the dynamic of their relationship? Did Zevran have to pierce their ear for them? Feel free to interpret this one however you’d like!

Surana sits, hands in his lap, fingers laced together. Tense.

Zevran hovers beside him. His hands are gentle as he takes hold of Surana’s right earlobe. He murmurs something before he pushes the needle through.

Surana makes a face. Though really, the pain’s not that bad. He’s felt worse.

The needle hurts less than the words did.

\--------------------

“So…it’s not a token of affection then?” Surana asked. The two of them were standing outside of his tent.

“I… Look. Just...just take it. It’s meant a lot to me, but so have…” Zevran seemed to catch himself, a look of near-panic flashing across his face. He managed to recover. “So has what you’ve done. Please, take it.” He offered his hand to Surana again. The golden earring held between his fingers glinted and shone in the fire’s light.

“I’ll only take it if it means something,” Surana replied, locking eyes with Zevran. The two of them had been dancing around their feelings since Taliesen’s death. Something had been slowly changed between them, and Surana was done denying it. He was making his stand.

“You are a very frustrating man to deal with you, do you know that?” Zevran looked angry now. He looked away from Surana. “We pick up every other bit of treasure we come across, but not this. You don’t want the earring, you get the earring. Very simple.” He snatched his hand back and stalked away.

Surana frowned and was struck by the sudden urge to cry. Maker. When was the last time he’d actually done _that_? He took a shaky breath and watched Zevran make his way back to the far side of camp. He released the breath and turned to his own tent.

He’d been so sure that Zevran had shared the same feelings. How had he been so wrong? Somewhere along the way, it had stopped being just sex to Surana. How else could he explain how good just being around Zevran made him feel? He was familiar with the smell of him now, the sounds he made in his sleep.

Surana craved it. He wanted so much now. And Zevran...

Surana was a fool.

That night, he slept alone.

\--------------------

That’s the past, and now things are different between them. The two of them are stronger.

Together.

“There,” Zevran says, sliding the wire of the earring through the newly pierced hole. “Simple. I did tell you that I am an expert at putting holes in things.” He releases Surana’s earlobe, then idly wipes at the small bit of blood that is trickling out around the earring.

“You did,” Surana chuckles. He reaches up and easily heals the tiny wound. “Luckily, I’m proficient at fixing them.”

Zevran sets the needle aside and crawls around to kneel in front of Surana. The two of them are in Surana’s tent, the mage sitting cross-legged on his bedroll. He relaxes now and looks up at Zevran.

“Lucky indeed,” Zevran says. He reaches in and gently tilts Surana’s head to the side. He admires his handiwork (and the elf as well). “We work very well together, no?”

Surana smiles and preens a little under Zevran’s attention. This draws a warm laugh from the assassin.

Together, they do.


	6. Day Six: Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __**Day Six: “It will be fun. I will make it fun.”**  
>  Sparring time with the Warden and Zevran. Do they get competitive with each other? Considering Zevran’s probably definition of “fun”, does their sparring turn into foreplay?

“No, no, no,” Zevran said, sidling up to where Surana was standing with one of Alistair’s practice swords. “You’re doing it all wrong.”

“Oh?” Surana blinked and relaxed his stance.

“What would you know about any of this?” Alistair asked. He let his shield arm drop and leveled an annoyed look at Zevran. “You use knives. To stab people, usually in the back.” He gave a sniff of disapproval. Clearly he didn’t appreciate Zevran’s presence.

Before Zevran had joined the Warden’s party, Surana had encountered a strange spirit imprisoned in a crumbling ruin. The spirit (or was it a memory? Zevran was quite clear on that) had gifted Surana with knowledge of some lost Elven school of magic. But according to Surana, knowledge without ability wasn’t very useful. His mind knew what it should do, but his body was unable to perform. Eager to help, Alistair had taken it upon himself to train the elf in physical combat.

And now, Zevran, still new to the party, had just cut in on one of his training sessions.

“Yes, I stab them in the back. And in the front. All over, really,” Zevran replied. He ignored the look Alistair was giving him and stepped in closer to Surana. “But sometimes they’re holding swords. And shields.” He smirked over at the human. “So I must know how they fight.”

Without warning, Zevran pressed himself up against Surana. He could feel the other elf’s back stiffen at first, then gradually relax against him. Zevran wrapped his arms around the Warden and placed his hands on top of the other’s. He gently guided Surana’s arms up to hold the sword in a ready stance. He could feel the Warden’s breath quickening.

“Nymm?” Alistair said, giving the two of them an uncertain look.

“It’s all right, Alistair,” Surana said, though his voice was shaky to start. “He’s just trying to help. Isn’t that right, Zevran?”

“Of course I am. That’s me - very helpful.” Zevran grinned over Surana’s shoulder and waggled his eyebrows at Alistair.

“Help. Sure, right,” Alistair grumbled. “Helping yourself to…nevermind.” He glared at Zevran. “Fine. I still don’t know what you think you can teach him that I can’t.”

“Do not misunderstand me, Warden,” Zevran said. “You are skilled on the battlefield. But you are much bigger than our dear Surana here. Stronger. He cannot learn to fight the same way you do.” He shrugged, which in turn caused Surana to echo the motion.

“Ah,” Alistair said. He didn’t sound quite so annoyed now. “I…suppose he is rather scrawny, isn’t he? I guess we could use more help.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Surana said dryly.

“Not to worry, my friend. In the end, size doesn’t matter much. Well, not in combat, anyway,” Zevran chuckled. Surana huffed out a soft laugh, much to Zevran’s pleasure.

“So, what should I do now? Continue the drills as normal?” Alistair asked. He was looking at them now, more curious than before. He looked to Surana for approval, who nodded in return.

“Ready your sword, Alistair,” Zevran said. “Come as hard as you can. And do try not to thrust too wildly.”

Alistair sputtered and nearly dropped his weapon. His face immediately began to turn red.

Surana laughed loudly this time, and Zevran could feel it vibrating through his own body. He really could get used to being this close to the Warden. He could also get used to the sound of his laugh; it was a surprisingly nice one.

Zevran guided Surana’s hands, moving the sword so it was ready to deflect Alistair’s attack. Right now, though, they had some sparring to do.


	7. Day Seven: After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> __**Day Seven: “All I need to know is if there might be some future for us, some possibility of… I do not know what.”**  
>  Post-game! Where do your Warden and Zevran go post-game? Do they have kids? How does their search for a cure for the Calling go? (Or for the angsty route: if your Warden made the ultimate sacrifice, how does Zevran cope? Where does he go?)

“So, you’re leaving again?” Surana murmured.

The Warden was curled up against Zevran’s side, his arm slung over the Antivan’s bare chest. Surana’s breath tickled his skin. 

“Mm,” Zevran nodded, and stretched. They were lying in the bed they shared, both of them sweaty and sated. Vigil’s Keep was quiet this late in the night.

“Yes,” he finally replied. He turned his head to look down at Surana. “It’s been some time since I last paid my respects to the Crows.” At that, Surana sighed and buried his face against Zevran’s chest.

“Do not be like that, my Warden,” Zevran chided. “We’ve discussed this in the--” He was distracted by a sharp nip to his chest. He tried to squirm away as the bite was followed up by another. “Most unfair! Using your teeth like that.”

Surana pulled his face back. He was smirking! Zevran narrowed his eyes, then put on his best pout. The Warden was unimpressed; he’d been dealing with the pout for far too long.

“I know your feelings on my teeth - you _like_ them,” Surana said. “And I know we discussed your Crow business. I understand, but that still doesn’t mean that I like it.” He made a face at Zevran, who couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I know,” Zevran said. He rubbed at where the Warden had bitten him. Surana wasn’t wrong; Zevran normally did enjoy a little biting. And much like the Warden, Zevran also hated the idea of leaving for another extended period of time.

Zevran had been living at Surana’s side for a number of years now, and he’d learned that being the husband of Ferelden’s Warden-Commander was a satisfying position.

While he wasn’t a Grey Warden himself - that was something Surana refused to budge on - Zevran had a place at Vigil’s Keep. He helped Nathaniel train new recruits. He assisted Seneschal Varel the day-to-day business of knowing what was going on around the Keep. He even helped Surana charm the nobles from time to time.

In short, he _belonged_ here.

But every so often, there would be a sign from the Crows that they hadn’t forgotten about him. Even years after he’d cut a bloody swath through their ranks, they persisted in their attempts to pursue him. Most of them wanted him dead, but there were a few odd cells that wanted him to _lead_ them. He’d long since grown tired of the attention.

“Where is it this time?” Surana asked, interrupting Zevran’s thoughts. “Antiva again?” His long fingers trailed over Zevran’s chest, lingering for a moment to circle one of his nipples.

“No, not this time,” Zevran murmured. “The Free Marches, of all places.” While not as far away as Antiva, it was still across the sea from Amaranthine. Had it always been this hard to think about being apart again? No. They’d done it in the past, both of them acting on their own responsibilities.

The years had begun to soften him, hadn’t they?

“Hmm,” Surana hummed. His fingers moved to Zevran’s other nipple. He remained thoughtful.

“Hmm?” Zevran looked down at him.

“Hmm.” Surana tweaked his nipple and looked up to meet Zevran’s eyes. “What if I went with you?”

Zevran raised an eyebrow.

“What of your duties?” he asked.

“The Keep will survive. Nate is more than capable to take over for a time,” Surana replied with a little shrug. “Besides, I can always call it a diplomatic mission. There are Marcher Wardens that I can meet.”

“How clever,” Zevran chuckled. His heart beat a little faster at the thought of Surana - and only Surana - traveling with him. He’d considered it before, but hadn’t wanted to ask it of his husband. And now here he was, offering!

“If...if you are sure, mi amor,” Zevran said.

“Of course,” Surana said. He slid his hand up to cup Zevran’s cheek, then stretched up to press a soft kiss to the opposite. Zevran turned and caught him before he could pull back. He brought their lips together.

“Soon, then,” Zevran said as they pulled apart for a breath.

“Ask Varel about travel tomorrow. A ship from Amaranthine?” Surana shifted and threw a leg over Zevran. He pulled himself up to straddle him.

“Might be better to leave from Denerim. Less expected.” Zevran put his hands on Surana’s hips and closed his eyes as the other elf rolled against him. “We’ll be two unremarkable elves.”

“We’ll have new names for a while then. A little roleplay could be fun.” Surana grinned and leaned in for another kiss.

This time, they didn’t bother breaking apart to speak. Already, Zevran was growing hard as Surana moved on top of him. He slid a hand down to palm Surana’s cock and was pleased to find it half-hard as well.

Talk of upcoming travel would just have to wait. There were far more important things to worry about right now. Surana nipped playfully at Zevran’s lower lip.

There would be plenty of time to plan in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon that the Warden was kicking around Kirkwall with a romanced Zevran during ‘A Murder of Crows’ in Dragon Age II Act 3. I’m sure Anders also got a nice long chat. And maybe Isabela got another threesome.


End file.
